Lustrum

was not until late in the evening that he returned home – in a bad mood, as he usually was after spending much time with Pompey. He was surprised to find me waiting up for him, and listened intently as I explained my discovery. I was inordinately pleased with my cleverness and expected him to congratulate me. Instead, he became increasingly irritated. 'Are you trying to tell me,' he demanded, after he had heard me out, 'that Pompey sent back captured weapons from Mithradates in order to arm Catilina's conspiracy?'
    'All I know is that the markings and the design were identical—'
    Cicero cut me off. 'This is treasonous talk! I cannot have you saying such things! You've seen how powerful Pompey is. Don't ever mention it again, do you hear me?'
    'I'm sorry,' I said, gulping with embarrassment. 'Forgive me.'
    'Besides, how would Pompey have got them to Rome? He was a thousand miles away.'
    'I wondered if perhaps they came back with Metellus Nepos.'
    'Go to bed,' he said angrily. 'You're talking nonsense.' But he obviously must have thought about it overnight, because the next morning his attitude was more subdued. 'I suppose you could be right that the weapons came from Mithradates. After all, the entire royal arsenal was captured, and it's plausible that Nepos might have brought a consignment with him to Rome. However, that's not the same thing as saying that Pompey was actively assisting Catilina.'
    'Of course not,' I said.
    'That would simply be too appalling to contemplate. Those blades were intended to cut my throat.'
    'Pompey would never do anything to harm either you or the state,' I assured him.
    The following day Pompey asked Cicero to come and see him.
    The Warden of Land and Sea had taken up residence again in his old house on the Esquiline Hill. Over the summer its appearance had been transformed. Dozens of the ramming beaks from captured pirates' warships now bristled from the walls. Some were fashioned in bronze to look like gorgons' heads. Others bore the snouts and horns of animals. Cicero had not seen thembefore, and regarded them with great distaste. 'Imagine having to sleep here every night,' he said as we waited for the porter to open the door. 'It's like the death chamber of a pharaoh.' And from this time on he often privately referred to Pompey as 'The Pharaoh' or sometimes 'The Shah'.
    A large crowd stood outside, admiring the house. Inside, the public rooms were thronged with petitioners hoping to find space to feed at Pompey's golden trough. Some were bankrupt senators looking to sell their votes. Others were businessmen with schemes in which they hoped to persuade Pompey to invest. There were ship-owners and horse-trainers and furniture-makers and jewellers, and some who were plainly just beggars, out to catch Pompey's sympathy with a hard-luck story. Much to their envy, we were shown straight past all these mendicants and into a large private room. In one corner was a tailor's dummy displaying Pompey's triumphal toga and the cloak of Alexander; in another a large head of Pompey made entirely of pearls, which I recognised from the triumphal parade. And in the centre, set up on two trestles, was an architect's model of an immense complex of buildings, over which loomed Pompey, holding a pair of toy wooden temples in either hand. A group of men behind him seemed to be waiting anxiously for his decision.
    'Ah,' he said, looking up, 'here is Cicero. He's a clever fellow. He will have a view. What do you think, Cicero? Should I build four temples here, or three?'
    'I always build my temples in fours,' replied Cicero, 'providing I have the space.'
    'Excellent advice!' exclaimed Pompey. 'Four it will be,' and he set them down in a row, to the applause of his audience. 'We shall decide which gods they are to be dedicated to later. Well?' he said to Cicero, gesturing to the model. 'What do you think?'
    Cicero peered down at the elaborate construction. 'Most impressive. What is it? A palace?'
    'A theatre, with seating for ten thousand. Here will be public gardens, surrounded by a portico. And here temples.' He turned to one of the men behind him, who I realised must be architects. 'Remind me again: how big is it going to be?'
    'The whole construction will extend for a quarter of a mile, Excellency.'
    Pompey grinned and rubbed his hands. 'A building a quarter of a mile in length! Imagine it!'
    'And where is it to be built?' asked Cicero.
    'On the Field of Mars.'
    'But where will the people vote?'
    'Oh,